Kennel-Me-Not

Today was pick-the-dog-up-from-the-kennel day.

As I walked in, two of the staffers were just about to leave for the day, and they were at the front chatting with the girl behind the desk about work stuff. All three all smiled and greeted me when I came in. I told them I was there to pick up Chloe, and one of the girls went back to get her while I paid.

You can always tell when they’re walking out with your dog, because all the other dogs in the kennel start barking. So I can hear them coming … and then…

I see a brown streak go by, running down the hallway behind the front desk. Quickly followed by the diminutive girl sent to fetch my dog.

“Chloe, come back here!”

Chloe has managed to wriggle out of her collar and immediately proceeds to run like crazy for whatever destination her little doggy brain has fixated on.

One of the other girls standing by the front desk steps into the hallway with the intentions of blocking Chloe’s path and forcing her capture. Like a slippery fish, Chloe eludes her.

At this point, I’ve paid, and the girl behind the desk has now joined the other two in their effort to capture my dog. The hallway dead-ends at a closed door, and the three of them come at her but she bolts, managing to elude all of them, and sneaks by headed for the other end of the hallway. They follow. She hits another roadblock, turns around, and runs past them, back down the hallway in the direction she came from.

I feel a bit like I’m watching a tennis match. Or a Wiley E Coyote cartoon, with my dog starring as the roadrunner.

They have her outnumbered 3 to 1, and my dog is winning.

“Chloe,” I shout sternly, thinking that her owner’s voice might actually make her obedient, “come here.”

She completely ignores me, and continues running in a crazy zig-zag across the kennel with the three girls chasing after her, one of them holding up her collar like she’s a cowboy about to lasso a calf.

Finally, two of them manage to hold down my dog while the third fastens her collar. They hand her off to me, but the collar’s still too loose and within minutes she’s free again, this time running in circles around the lobby.

We readjust her collar and one of the girls gets it back on while I hold down Chloe. This time she’s not getting free.

“Thanks …” I shout as I bolt out the door, wanting to get the dog outside and in the truck before she causes any more havoc.

Seated in the backseat, Chloe pants heavily. I look at her, “well, you need to listen to those nice ladies at the kennel.”

She just continues to pant, looking at me with those innocent chocolate brown eyes, “Who, me?”

Bachelorette Shocker!

Wait a minute.



Am I missing something here?

“Bachelorette Shocker: Emotions Fly as Jillian Harris is Forced to Choose One Guy.”

Oh my. You mean she couldn’t choose two of them? Or three? You mean she can only agree to marry ONE PERSON? What a shock. Who would’ve thought that the Bachelorette must eliminate her pool of men down to just one lucky guy? What a surprising twist to the show’s original premise.

Personally, the only positive thing that ever came out of that show was Trista and Ryan. Both The Bachelor and The Bachelorette lost all credibility for me after several seasons of people agreeing to marry, only to break the engagement two weeks after the final episode airs and they are no longer contractually obligated to pretend to be together.

Don’t get me wrong, you certainly can’t blame someone for not committing to marriage after only knowing the other person for a reality show TV season. But it seems, at this point, that it's just a glorified dating show. There are no consequences if they don’t really marry the person they choose. I think the show would be a lot more fun if they were contractually obligated to get married and stay married for at least a year. It would put a whole lot more weight on the final decision.

They should do that next season. The headline could read, “Bachelorette Shocker: The Bachelorette is Forced to Wed the Guy She Agrees to Marry at the End of the Show.”

Shake, Rattle, and Roll

I thought we were having an earthquake today. I was sitting at the stoplight waiting for the green, when I heard a loud rumbling noise and the air freshener hanging from my rearview mirror started to sway.

It was not an earthquake.

It was a young-ish "gentleman" driving something resembling a 1987 Cadillac with ridiculously large rims, the windows rolled down and – apparently – a stereo system juiced enough to make the dash on my half-ton pickup rattle.

I’d bet $20 bucks it has hydraulics, too.

Priorities

No disrespect to the deceased here, but I'M TIRED OF HEARING ABOUT MICHAEL JACKSON.

And really, CNN, this news is on par with global warming and the plight of our troops in Afghanistan???


(Even my googly-eyes are shocked).

The Finale: Camping Miracles

Next to our campfire, left behind by the previous campers, was a giant log. Someone had obviously dragged it there, with the intentions of burning it, because there was a tie strap still twined around it. They had gone to a lot of trouble to get that giant log next to the campfire, but never ended up burning it.


(can is for scale)

We had a theory. We figured they had been sitting around the campfire late at night (there was almost definitely alcohol involved) and two or more of them had decided that burning a giant log was the thing to do. In their late night fervor and alcohol-muddled reasoning, it seemed like a brilliant idea. They set off, tow rope in hand, to go collect a giant log. Probably by the time they got back two hours later, stumbling along with a giant tree stump dragging behind them, their friends were all asleep/passed out, and the log-draggers lost their enthusiasm and went to bed themselves. The next morning when everyone got up it suddenly did not seem like such a brilliant idea. So the log was left next to the campfire, for us to find.

The boys took one look at it and said: “Lets burn it.”

We were all highly doubtful that the log would actually burn. Especially after the Great Flood of 2009, in which the log was not covered to protect it from the rain.

But since there weren’t going to be any fireworks this Fourth, we decided, “What the heck, let’s go for it.”

The boys were in charge of the log burning, as it was their idea. They were more than happy about this. We decided that we would wait until the night of the Fourth, as sort of a celebratory thing. A bonfire tribute to Lady Liberty and a grand finale for the last night of our camping trip.


(working out the logistics of moving the log)

In yet another camping miracle, the log not only burned, but made a perfect campfire. It was rather hot, at first (we all had to move our chairs back about five feet), but it burned steadily and without the constant need for more fuel. We could enjoy it and not have to ever get up for more firewood.





Slowly, the evening slipped into night. An almost-full-moon came out, shining silvery through the trees and the mist, coyotes howled in the distance, classic rock played quietly on the radio, and everyone sat around an effortlessly burning campfire in perfectly temperate weather. And as beautifully as it began, the Fourth of July came to a close.

Camping, Part II: It’s So Easy, a Child Could Do It

One of my best friends has a fantastic recipe for Monkey Bread. She happened to mention in passing that she would like to make Monkey Bread during the camping trip, but was stuck on how to cook it without an oven.

“Monkey bread?!” I said, “Monkey Bread?! I will *make* you an oven out of a cardboard box and some tinfoil if that’s what it takes to get monkey bread on this trip.”

As it turns out, you actually can make an oven out of tinfoil and a cardboard box. I downloaded the instructions from a “Camping with Kids” website, and they looked simple enough. I mean, if a ten-year-old can do it (with adult supervision of course), I figure we’ve got a decent shot at making it work.

The basic concept is that you cover the cardboard box with tinfoil and set it over your baking pan, trapping the heat from the coals and cooking your food. You use four soda cans, half-filled with water, to elevate the pan over the fire. Because there’s not actually any flames (just coals), and your box is covered in tinfoil, theoretically, the cardboard will not catch on fire.



The boys were skeptical. I knew that if this didn’t work (and we gave ourselves about a 50% chance) my friend and I were going to be mercilessly teased for the remainder of the camping trip. That whole phrase, “I got the directions off a website for kids. A ten year old could do it.” would come back to haunt me.



Well, the most amazing thing happened.

It worked. IT ACTUALLY WORKED.

It took about an hour over the fire, and out came a perfectly cooked pan of monkey bread.



The box didn’t catch on fire. We didn’t burn the monkey bread. We didn’t burn ourselves. It was delicious. Both the monkey bread and the victory, which we could then wave in the faces of all our skeptics.

We were gracious in our victory, however, and let them eat some.

Camping, Part I: Because Matches Aren't Good Enough

Sometimes my husband surprises me. Like, when we’re getting ready to start the campfire and he brings out the blow torch.

Yes really, the blow torch. We are so classy.

Thus, please enjoy my pictorial essay on How to Light a Campfire With a Blow Torch. Somebody should post this on WikiHow so I can get my 15 minutes. (Well, maybe not, because it’s probably a bad idea for people to be running around our national forests with blow torches. Smoky the Bear would be crying himself to sleep.)

Step 1: Get firewood

No… scratch that.

Step 1: Go to ATM and pull out $100, because that’s about how much you’ll need to buy wood in the middle of the desert.

Step 2: Get firewood



Step 3: Gather together your materials.



Step 4: Put the wood inside the fire ring. Keep the beer separate from the other materials, so that you can periodically hydrate while working hard at making the campfire.



Step 5: Break out the blow torch. Light wood.





Step 6: Get another beer, since you’ve finished the first one. Then sit back and relax.